


Don't Be Shy

by melody1987



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, M/M, Major sexual tension, Smut, and J loving it as always, bruce being slightly creepy, that gets somewhat resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-09 00:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11658204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/pseuds/melody1987
Summary: He doesn't mean to stare. He never does. But, as always in situations like these, what Bruce means to do and what he actually does never match up.





	Don't Be Shy

**Author's Note:**

> So I should have been working on A New Game but the chapter's being shit and when I got an ask about Bruce watching J dance, I thought "fuck it" and wrote this instead.

[](http://i.imgur.com/Rmc4Ro1)

He doesn't mean to stare. He never does. But, as always in situations like these, what Bruce means to do and what he actually does never match up. He _should_ be cuffing Joker right now, dragging him into the car and driving him back to Arkham, making the city safe for however long the staff can keep him contained. But he isn't. Instead Bruce is watching Joker through a gap in the dust covering one of the windows as the soft music playing inside reaches his ears.

Bruce has been here for over ten minutes, which is already nine minutes too long and there's a lie Bruce tells himself around about now, when the line between surveillance and voyeurism starts to blur, that this is necessary, that chances to watch Joker unawares are few and far between, and, when dealing with a man as dangerous as this, he needs all the study he can get. And Bruce knows its a lie but the part screaming at him to smash through the window and _end this_ isn't strong enough to fight the part that keeps him rooted to the spot.

It's the way Joker moves, hypnotic and irresistible, hips swaying in time with the music, a body that's too much and too little in all the wrong ways so much more graceful than it has any right to be, gangly limbs twisting and bending with the sort of practiced precision that makes it look effortless. He's a good dancer and Bruce wouldn't be surprised to learn Joker was one in his previous life. He's a good singer, too, the gentle baritone that's spilling promises of love and romance reeling Bruce in.

He vaguely recognises the song, most people would, but Bruce's head is too focused on Joker to give it a name. All he sees is that body in purple pants and an untucked shirt and he wants to slide his hand underneath to see if it feels as soft and fluid as it looks from up here. His pulse is racing, face warming as his mind then moves to a different sort of dance, one that happens between sheets, that has that body moving under his and he should look away, but he wants - _needs_ \- to see more and his hand comes up to press against the glass before he can stop it.

His skin itches and his breathing is getting heavy and he knows the line has been crossed now, which is almost enough to _finally_ make him leave, but Joker turns and his eyes find Bruce to catch him in the act. A smile spreads across Joker’s mouth and in a way that tells Bruce his presence hasn't gone anywhere near as unnoticed as he thought, Joker says, “Don't be shy,” and beckons him inside.

Bruce should leave now. He should but he doesn't. He's opening the window and gliding to the floor and Joker’s coming nearer, body still flowing with the music in that hypnotic way. And their hands meet as an arm slips around Bruce's neck, breath hot on his cheek as Joker’s voice drops to a whisper. And Bruce's body responds in ways he knows it shouldn't as his palm lands on that tiny waist to pull them even closer together before dipping under the fabric and finding out that, yes, Joker is every bit as soft and fluid as he hoped. But there’s also tension in the way his hand grips Bruce’s just a little too hard and nails scratch against the back of the cowl.

Bruce's fingers dig into Joker’s skin, pinching and kneading, making Joker’s voice catch and he doesn't have a chance to continue the song where he left off because their mouths come together, any chance Bruce pretends he might've had to leave now gone. He's committed to the dance now, the one that has him tearing open buttons and pulling down zippers as Joker opens latches and locks, the singing now taking the form of gasps, giggles and moans.

And then that body is finally where Bruce wants it, bending and swaying and twisting up against him, hands going places Bruce will never admit he wants them to be even when they are, and he can't do anything but follow Joker’s lead, let himself be guided into a rhythm that isn't polished or flawless but instinctive and raw and all the better for it. It doesn't last long, time is a luxury neither of them have, but that doesn't stop Bruce imagining what it could be like to take his time, explore Joker’s body inch by inch. But the fantasy breaks down as they both start to unravel and it's nothing but heat and sweat and legs around his waist, heels in his back and fingers in his hair, body trembling as sounds he'll hear long after he's left hit his ears.

Bruce follows right after Joker and when he's finished has to stay very still. His head rings, chest hurts and he can't quite remember how he got here or why but he knows he has to leave. He gets dressed without a word and, just like last time, swears this won't happen again, but when Joker comes near, naked and carefree in a way Bruce could never be, Bruce knows it will.

And when Joker kisses him, he kisses right back, the taste of blood as teeth take his bottom lip a reminder of why he shouldn't do this, but always will.

[](http://i.imgur.com/aTLWrhG)


End file.
